Black Ice
by Amanandia
Summary: Slightly AU Elsanna; Elsa finds Anna on a rebellious trip to Arendelle one day, and drags the orphan back to the castle with her. She adopts Anna as her little sister, until an accident happens and she's forced to shut the younger girl out. Likely to get angsty and depressing at times. Rating is T for the moment but subject to change later.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own Frozen. It wouldn't ended a bit differently if I did.**

**Technically this is AU as Elsa and Anna aren't biologically related and I tweaked a couple things, but otherwise it's basically the same. Elsanna, so don't like, don't read. :P Also, I'm still getting used to writing the Frozen characters' personalities, so if I get a few things wrong or they seem a bit OOC, let me know how I can fix it. For the sake of this chapter, Elsa's quite OOC. (She's also seven so there's that.)**

**[also if the kids' interactions and parental ones seem weird it's because I'm not familiar with writing kids or parents of kids.]**

**I'll stop babbling now. xD**

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The birth of an heir was supposed to be a happy event. And for a small time, it was. Two years of a perfect baby girl, perhaps a bit pale, but normal. For two years, the king and queen of Arendelle had a normal, happy child. The mop of near-white hair on her head didn't escape their notice –nor the rest of Arendelle— but both simply attributed it to past ancestors. There was no need to worry over something as simple as a hair color, and so they left it alone.

The first time Elsa's powers manifested, it was in the middle of a tantrum over losing a beloved stuffed polar bear. The first cry had been weak, just a sad noise. The second was a shrill scream of anguish that only a two-year-old can manage, only hers was accompanied by shards of ice spiking out from her tiny body in a circle. Terrified of and for her child, the Queen had backed away from the toddler, at the same time calling for her husband.

By the time the tantrum ended, the room was covered in sheets of ice, and a very tired little princess had fallen into a deep sleep in the very center of it all, totally unaffected by the severe drop in temperature.

The second time, it was worse. Only a few months after her polar bear tantrum, Elsa had fallen prey to a common cold – and the rest of the castle was subject to her misery. At any point in time, floors froze over, icicles sprang from the ceiling and walls, and sheets of frozen water formed new walls before shattering and melting into the ground. It was a wonder the rugs didn't succumb to mold, and that small favor was owed to the maids who continually came to dry and replace them.

Elsa herself was cold to the touch, and with as much concern for her as fear of her, the worried parents rushed her to the only ones who could make sense of this mystery – the trolls. The trek to the Valley of the Living Rock is long and arduous, and by the time they arrive, they are both exhausted. Determination, however, is not so easily squashed, and the King, who had visited the trolls before, steps up to talk to them.

As usual, they are asleep. It takes several moments of calling, pleading, and shouting for them to wake at all, and once they do, they're not really sure what to make of the newcomers. Before any can start in on their usual antics, however, what appears to be a rock rolls down to them and reveals himself as the wise elder troll.

"Pabbie," the king murmurs.

"Ah. I see you've brought me your daughter – I admit I was curious to see the new heir of Arendelle." Without a moment's thought, he takes a closer look at the child, jolting slightly in surprise when the toddler sneezes and the icy breath that comes out with it blows into his face. "Oh, child, you're very cold."

The queen prods her daughter gently. "Elsa, love, wake up. Someone would like to meet you."

Blue eyes open slowly, groggily, and take a moment to adjust to what is surely nearing dusk. "Troll?" she asks innocently, staring at the figure before her.

Pabbie is surprised a moment before chuckling softly. "I shouldn't be surprised; as a future queen, of course she much know the different races of Arendelle."

The king exhales, pursing his lips before staring down at the troll and his daughter. "Something is wrong with her," he blurts out, before he can think of a better way to put it. "You can feel how cold she is, can't you?" When Pabbie nods, he continues. "She's always that way. We paid no attention to it when she was younger, but..."

The queen takes over, seeing her husband unable to articulate what has happened recently. "Lately it's been... different. The first time it happened, she had lost a favorite toy, and ice spikes exploded outward from where she was sitting along with her tantrum... and then just weeks ago, she fell under a common flu. The floors, the walls, the very air around her froze over, thawed, froze again. She's nearly taken out maids who disturb her when she's sleeping or feeling unwell, and we... we don't know what's wrong."

Pabbie's brow furrows, and he stares into the child's eyes, noticing her near-white hair, fair complexion, and ice blue eyes. "A cryokinetic... I've never met one before, and how strange that her powers are so strong at this age. Unfortunately, I have no solution for you."

Both parents stare in wide-eyed terror. "Then... then what should we do?" the queen asks, desperate for an answer.

"Teach her not to fear it. Not to let it get to her. Teach her to overcome her emotions, so that her unique... abilities won't get the best of her. There won't be any cure, only management." He glanced up at the sky. "You might want to take your leave now, if you wish to be back before midnight."

The next few years were spent solely on management. Elsa was far too young to learn to control her emotions –and by default, her powers— so the castle staff and her parents suffered indoor blizzards and slippery floors whenever the young heiress's emotions got away from her. For a six-year-old, that really didn't take much.

She was seven before her parents would allow her out of their sight, and even then, not for long. She was allowed to wander the courtyards and gardens, and enter the stables if she wished, but she was never to step out into Arendelle itself.

_"Papa, when can I go into Arendelle? When can I meet the people?" _she remembered asking, just last week at her seventh birthday celebration. At seven, she thought, she was more than capable of controlling her abilities.

_"Maybe later,"_ the king had replied. _"It's just that... Elsa, you're not safe."_

The statement confused her young mind, and her brow furrowed in reply. _"Who would hurt me?" _she wondered aloud.

The king hesitated, faltered, and sighed deeply. _"It's not you getting hurt that we're afraid of. It's... your powers aren't controllable. Someone in the wrong place at the wrong time is all it would take to turn Arendelle against the royal family. You must understand that you're a danger."_

She couldn't remember what she said afterward, only that those words felt as if they knocked the wind out of her. _She_ was a danger. _She _was the problem, the complication. Her parents never hid from her that they were afraid of her, even spiteful at times, but to hear it so bluntly put that they were more concerned for the kingdom than their own daughter's well being... that was different.

She had frozen her bedroom solid that night, and nearly froze her own eyes shut with the sobs that wracked her small body. The maid found her curled in a ball, surrounded by circle after circle of ice spikes.

The following week had been nothing but misery. Elsa tried to avoid her parents as often as possible, and considering their royal duties, fear of their child, and insistence that she needed to play outside, it didn't take much effort. She made towering ice sculptures and brought them to life to play, only to destroy them by the end of the day when they were unneeded again. She attempted to pick flowers, but generally froze them over instead, and went to visit the horses in the stables. Most shied away, knowing something about her wasn't right, but a few would allow her to stroke their necks.

Today, though... today she was restless. She had been to the stables at least five times, and had constructed and destroyed ten or more sculptures. Elsa had lost count by now, and nothing could relieve her boredom. None of the servants' children would play with her for fear of being frozen over a game gone wrong, and even the adults of the castle steered clear of the ice girl.

The child let go of a deep sigh and sat up, glaring at the frost that had formed on the grass under her before turning to gaze longingly at the castle gates. They were always closed, except for special occasions such as today, when visitors from a nearby country had come to negotiate with the king and queen. Elsa knew better than to leave, and she had never disobeyed her parents, so there was little worry over her escaping.

But today, her curiosity trumped her morals and obligations. Blue eyes darted in all directions, looking out for anyone who could possibly see her – but when she found no one, she edged closer to the gates. One foot in front of the other, the princess made her way toward the entrance of the castle, before a sudden burst of courage overtook her and she bolted for the gates as if flames were licking at her heels.

She wasn't exactly sure how long she ran, only that she was out of breath by the time she stopped to stare at the sight before her.

Arendelle, in all its busy, loud, crowded glory rose in front of her, and for a moment, the seven-year-old wasn't sure that coming all this way was such a good idea. But if there was one thing Elsa was, it was determined, so she straightened her back, steeled herself, and strode nonchalantly into the bustling center of excitement.

It occurred to her that she hadn't brought any money, but that was the least of her concerns. Finally, _finally_, she got to step into Arendelle; to be face-to-face with all of her subjects, the people she would eventually rule. It filled her with a giddy sort of excitement, which was squashed a moment later as the girl recalled her old mantra; _conceal, don't feel._

With an air of grace unusual for a seven-year-old, she strolled through the streets of the kingdom she would one day inherit, stopping along the way to watch some of the "normal" children play. It was... different. Nice, in a way, not to be noticed. How she escaped notice by the townsfolk was a mystery even to Elsa, but it was good to just blend in for once.

Eventually, though, she grew weary of the crowds and bustling people, and chose instead to make her escape into the nearby woods. If she remembered correctly, from her brief visits with her parents, there was a path to lead her back to the palace through the woods. If not, she could simply follow the road back.

As it turned out, there was no path, so the young princess stayed close enough to see the road as she made her way through brush and trees. The walk was peaceful and unexpectedly nice. Once in a while she stopped to observe some creature –reindeer, mostly– before continuing on with her journey home.

She couldn't have been far from the castle when, to her surprise, some loud noise sounded from nearby. Elsa hesitated for a moment, torn between curiosity and her duty to return home, before giving in to go investigate the sound. It seemed the woods served as a very good amplifier for sound, because she had gone much further than she intended before she found the source of the sound.

She nearly tripped over the source of the sound, in fact. Sitting directly in front of her, tears pouring down her face, was a small girl. She couldn't have been older than five years old, and the princess' brows furrowed in confusion as to why this young child was wandering around the woods all alone.

Forgoing the questions in her mind of why this little girl was in the woods all by herself –technically, so was she... but she was _seven_, not five– she knelt down in front of the child. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly, blue eyes worried.

To her surprise, blue eyes nearly identical to her own raised to look at her. There was a spattering of freckles across the girl's nose, and her hair –unkempt, un-brushed, and seemingly unwashed– appeared to be some shade of reddish-blonde. And the girl's pink lips were set in a dreaful pout. "I fell," she replied sadly. "And hurt my knee." As evidence, the girl showed her a knee that looked quite battered and bloodied. Elsa grimaced –in both disgust at the blood and sympathy for the girl's pain– and sighed.

"Oh, well..." The princess bit her lip, worried it between her teeth, and then smiled reluctantly. "Here. Let me help."

_Conceal, don't feel._ The mantra repeated inside her head as she allowed her fingertips to freeze over, placing her hands against the girl's knee and forming a shoddily-made ice bandage. "Better?" she asked when she was done, raising her eyes to the girl's. An awestruck expression greeted her, accompanied by a stupefied nod.

"How... how did you _do_ that?" she asked, delighted, grinning. The princess blinked, shocked and unsure how to take this positive feedback.

"I was born with it," she said shyly, standing and extending a hand to the redhead. "What's your name?"

The younger one beamed as she grabbed the hand offered to her. "Anna!" she giggled. "What's your name?"

"Elsa."

"That's pretty. I like it."

"Anna's nice, too."

Without noticing, she had begun her trek back to the palace, and they walked in silence for a few moments. Finally, the blonde realized something. "Where's your family? I bet they're worried about you."

She immediately regretted it when Anna looked away, crestfallen. "I don't have a family," she said, shrugging as if it meant nothing.

But it did mean something. Elsa stared at her in shock and disbelief, her heart going out to this poor girl. "How can you have no family? Everyone has one."

"I just don't." Anna shrugged again. "It's okay."

They walked a while more in silence, the princess deep in thought, until finally she smiled and looked at the younger girl. "Then I guess you'll just be part of mine!"

Elsa wasn't sure if she had ever seen more hopeful eyes than Anna's when she looked up at the blonde. "Really?! You don't have to – I don't want to – I mean–"

The princess laughed softly and reached over to hesitantly wrap her arm around the girl's shoulders. She was always so stiff about physical contact, but somehow this was... different. Easier. It was new, but a good kind of new. "It's okay," she smiled.

The awestruck expression on Anna's face went away, but it came back the second the palace was in sight. "Um... Elsa?" she asked.

"Yeah?"

"... That's the palace."

"I know."

The redhead blinked. "So... why are we going there?"

The princess laughed as she remembered that she never told the girl who she was. "I live there!" she announced rather proudly.

The younger girl was clearly confused. "As a servant?"

Blue eyes rolled in amusement and the blonde chuckled. "No, silly. As the princess. Come on, you can meet my Mama and Papa."

"You're a princess?!" Anna exclaimed. "A real live one? With dresses and everything?!" The girl was grinning from ear to ear and her eyes were shining in both awe and adoration, and it made Elsa a little uncomfortable because she was used to that from everyone else. But Anna's expression was... different. It wasn't the same mindless respect paid to her by the servants and maids; it was more like awe and adoration at finding out that an already amazing person also lived an amazing life.

"With dresses and everything," she agreed, nodding as they stepped through the gates. She ruffled the younger girl's hair playfully, then straightened her back and headed for the palace entrance.

She was downright shocked to find her parents both lounging in the parlor. It was unusual, and the princess eyed them warily as she approached them, red-haired Anna in tow.

"Oh, who's this?" the king asked. Annd had hidden behind the older girl slightly, unsure of what else to do, but gave Elsa's parents a nervous smile.

The seven-year-old smiled slightly. "Her name is Anna," she replied. "She was all by herself in the woods."

"What on earth were you doing in the woods?" her mother frowned. "It's not very... ladylike."

Chewing her lip, Elsa bowed her head. "I was just bored," she murmured.

"She made my knee better!" Anna interjected, grinning. "With her cool icy stuff!"

The king and queen stared at their daughter in open horror. "Elsa, you _showed_ her?" the king chastised. "You know better! What if someone else had seen? What if you lost control? What if-"

"But nobody did and I didn't and her she hurt her knee. What do you expect me to do?"

The queen sighed deeply. "At least you did something good with it," she muttered. "Now why did you bring Anna here? I'm sure her family's worried."

The princess opened her mouth to say something, but her feisty red-haired companion beat her to it. "I don't have one," she stated. "Elsa said she'd be my family!"

An awkward silence descended on the parlor, the king and queen glancing at each other, then the two children, in a silent sort of argument. Finally, Elsa's father cleared his throat. "That's... very _noble_ of you, Elsa, but..." Knowing what was coming, the girl turned big blue eyes on him, staring up from under her lashes and deliberately looking as piteous as possible. A deep sigh escaped him and he glanced at his wife. "Well... It's not as if we're short for resources..."

"Have you lost your mind?" the queen replied. "That's... it's not a pet, it's a child!"

Elsa swallowed. "I'll keep her out of trouble," she promised. "And make sure she doesn't get in the way, and protect her."

Her mother stared down at the two of them for a long moment before finally sighing in defeat. "I guess we can take her in," she muttered, rolling her eyes. An amused smile touched her lips as she caught the awestruck expression on the little redhead's face. "You are a lucky little girl today."

Fighting hard not to just shout for joy, Elsa made a shallow bow, beaming the entire time. "Thank you!" Without a moment's hesitation, she grabbed her new sister's hand and dragged her up the stairs to figure out where she would stay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey look, another chapter.**

**I'm just apologizing in advance for all the feels, if this hurts you as much as it hurt to write. It's a filler chapter and I'll admit that I just really wanted to explore the amount of angst and hurt between the accident and the coronation. Shorter chapter. Next chapter will be a time skip to just after the end of the movie. Maybe. I think.**

**I do actually have a plot idea for this. I sort of know where it's going. Yay plots!**

**(If you find any discrepancies in timelines, contradictory statements or typos, let me know, please. :D)**

**EDIT:**

**I realized after I uploaded this that I had completely skipped over a part of the story I meant to include. Sooo I went back and revised it a bit. If you find any errors or lack of continuity anywhere, please let me know. **

**Also, if you've been at all confused by me calling the king and queen Anna's parents, instead of "adopted parents", it'll be explained later. Just so nobody got confused. ;)**

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At first, the king and queen were hesitant to allow any close contact between the girls. After all, their daughter did have powers over the ice. What would happen if they fought over something, or Anna annoyed Elsa?

They needn't have worried. Elsa had taken her role as older sister seriously, and was careful to never hurt the younger girl. She was also fiercely protective of Anna; the one –and only—time that some of the servants' children had teased the redhead, she had sent them running with frost licking their heels. They left Anna alone after that.

The castle came to adore the feisty little girl the royal family had adopted, from Elsa's parents to the staff, in a way that they had never adored Elsa. Anna was given special treatment, let off the hook more times than anyone could count for being naughty, and received a greater amount of attention than the princess herself.

Her parents had all but forgotten their biological daughter, aside from her lessons during the week to control her powers. Beyond that, they didn't much acknowledge her. She couldn't exactly blame them – what parent wants a child that could kill them accidentally? So she said nothing about it, and only watched from afar as Anna became the favorite.

But she held no resentment for it, especially toward the younger girl. The adopted princess was too kind, too sweet for Elsa to blame her for any wrongdoings. And furthermore, she was the only one who had never been afraid of Elsa. The redhead found wonder and beauty in her powers, never fear, though the princess expected that to change one day. She was certain that eventually, Anna would see how bad those powers were, and distance herself.

But for now, she was happy to enjoy the attention.

"Elsa. Psst, Elsa!"

Just maybe not at four in the morning.

She tried to ignore the girl, but that was a bit difficult when Anna climbed on top of her and started shaking her. "Elsa! Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

The older girl groaned. "Anna, go back to sleep."

She may have loved the girl, but that didn't mean she was willing to forego some much-needed rest for her.

Anna sighed and fell dramatically onto her back – _on top_ of Elsa. "I just _can't_!" she cried. "The _sky's_ awake, so _I'm_ awake, so we have to _play_!"

The eight-year-old rolled her eyes and shoved the little redhead off of her, unceremoniously dumping Anna on the ground. "Go play by yourself!"

Anna had her own bedroom, but she rarely slept in it. After she had been tucked in for the night, she usually snuck out and went to sleep in Elsa's bed instead. She felt safer with the older girl, somehow.

The five-year-old pouted for a moment, thinking, and then grinned and jumped back up on the bed. She pried Elsa's eye open with one hand and raised an eyebrow. "Do you wanna build a _snowman_?"

Blue eyes popped open to look at her, and a telltale smirk formed on the younger girl's lips. It was their tradition to build snowmen –without Elsa's powers– whenever Anna saw fit. And she could never refuse the feisty redhead's pleading.

Within a few moments, they had run down to the ballroom, Elsa shushing her little sister the whole time. As soon as the door was closed, Anna grabbed her hand. "Do the magic, do the magic!"

A smile lit her features as she crouched a bit and beckoned the younger one closer with her finger. As she formed little snowflakes between her hands, Anna watched in rapt amazement until the princess smirked. "Ready?" Her adopted sister nodded eagerly, and Elsa flung her hands into the air, creating an impressive ice-works display and showering the room with snow.

"Watch _this_," she grinned, stomping her foot on the ground. Ice spanned out from where she had touched, carrying her younger sister with it. After creating more snow, they made a snowman, and Elsa named him Olaf.

"Hi, I'm Olaf, and I like warm hugs," she chuckled, waving his little stick arms at Anna. The younger girl tackled him with one of those hugs and Elsa smiled.

It was so rare to be able to show off her powers and not feel like a monster doing so that she was still a bit reserved about it. Even so, it was nice to see that someone enjoyed them, even if she wasn't exactly sure why Anna liked them at all.

But then _everything_ changed.

She nearly killed Anna. It was an accident, sure, but that even worse. She had nearly killed the person who meant the most to her because she had no control over her own powers. Over her emotions.

The king and queen put an end to all communication, and Elsa was only too willing to oblige. She didn't miss the heartbreak in her younger sibling's eyes when Elsa ignored her. Of course she saw it… but she was not willing to risk Anna's life for some stolen happiness. _Not again_. She would never, _never_ hurt Anna again, and until she could trust her powers –no, not trust, _crush_— she would not subject the younger girl to that kind danger.

The princess didn't need anyone to tell her how terrible she was for her to know it. She was a monster. She repeated the words to herself under her breath, quietly, in the privacy of her room, until she believed it herself. Only a monster could hurt people like that. Only a monster had the ability to kill someone with a sweep of the arm.

And she could see it in her parents' eyes. They were afraid. Ever since she struck Anna, the way they acted around her changed. It was too cautious, too conscious. Every step, every move, every word was precisely placed and planned to avoid upsetting their ice-wielding child. What few smiles they gave her were tinged with regret, sadness, and pity. It was that pity and tangible fear which, more than anything, made her withdraw into herself. She stopped accepting any praise, any love, any affection, any physical touch. She shied away from it as if it were the plague – because what if someone touched her, and froze? What if she panicked, and hurt them? What if she _couldn't_ control the frost?

When Anna came to her door, she tried to ignore the small voice outside. At first, it was vigorous, determined, joyful; as if Elsa was only taking a break and would return soon, and she _knew_ it, she _knew_ that, because Elsa would never leave her.

But as the days –and eventually months, then years– dragged on, Anna began to lose faith. She gave up her signature knock rhythm, certain that her sister found it annoying. Found _her_ annoying. Yet, she couldn't bear not to talk to her –the door, rather– so she continued to sit outside. At least once during the day, she would stand or sit outside Elsa's room, talking, babbling about her day, her week, her month. Many times, she wondered aloud why Elsa never opened the door. Why she never replied, or even acknowledged that Anna existed. She pleaded, built herself up, and broke again when the door remained closed.

It took less than a month for Elsa to stop ignoring the younger girl's voice. Greedily, selfishly, she listened, with her ear pressed to the door if Anna was being quiet, and facing away if she was speaking exuberantly. It was the only pleasure she allowed herself, and there was no harm in listening. She never said a word in reply; there was no need to give Anna the false hope that anything would come of it. But she listened. She lived through the feisty redhead, but never spoke a word of it.

The happiness faded. Year after year, Anna's voice became duller. She stopped caring, stopped believing it would all work out. She realized that Elsa wasn't just gone for a week, or a month; she was gone for years. Perhaps forever. And they would never have that close bond ever again.

When the king and queen left on royal business, Elsa didn't know what to do. She had never been without them – it was always too risky for them to leave. The last thing they needed to return to was a frozen castle and death. As Elsa grew older and the lessons progressed, their comfort grew, until they were comfortable enough to leave without worrying that the kingdom would be frozen over when they got back.

The night they informed Elsa that they had to make a trip, and they wouldn't be back for a while, she shook her head in disbelief. They couldn't leave. Who would keep her on track, who would keep her in check? Nobody but her parents could do anything, or even knew anything about her.

_Conceal, don't feel._

She bit back the panic enough to nod, swallowing the dread she felt.

The day they left, she asked again, "Do you have to go?" It was one of the first times she had been out of her room in a few months, and she was already so out of place. She had only left the confines of her chamber to see them off.

"You'll be fine, Elsa," her father assured her.

It wasn't until she was alone in her room that night that she realized just how lost she was without her parents. Since the accident, they had been her only contact and the only thing controlling her. How was she supposed to tame her powers without them around to guide her? There was no way that this could work. There was no way she could possibly keep them to herself.

She refused to sleep, convinced something could happen, and spent the entire night pacing the floor, back and forth, repeating, "Conceal, don't feel. Don't feel, _don't feel_," the whole time. She could feel the panic rising, the fear, the terror. Her heart rate picked up, her breathing became shallow and quick, and it felt like someone was smothering her. Her arms clasped over her abdomen protectively, and she couldn't help sinking to the ground to wait it out. Frost and snow swirled around the room, and it was a good thing the door was locked or it might have spilled into the halls. It was a wonder the windows didn't break.

The blonde tucked her knees up against her chest, buried her face in her hands, and couldn't help the sob that escaped her. She was going to die. And if she didn't die, someone else would.

Some time later –had it been moments? Hours?—she managed to calm down enough to scramble up into her bed, draw the covers up, and curl into a protective ball under them. She didn't need the blankets, but they provided some form of security and comfort, and it was all she had right now.

It was a wonder her tears didn't freeze on her face that night.

And when word reached Arendelle that the royal ship carrying her parents had been lost to a storm out on the ocean, she knew she would never, _never _open her door for Anna again. The elder girl locked herself away. Her own parents were dead, and why? Because she couldn't control her emotions. Nobody had blamed her to her face –they had hardly seen her to do so, anyway— but the night they left had been clear. It was a day's journey to their destination, and they never made it. It had been a "freak storm" that overturned the ship.

It had been the product of a panic attack that Elsa couldn't control. She would never forgive herself, and she would never allow herself to hurt anyone else. She –and everyone else– was safest when she was locked behind closed doors.

She didn't attend her parents' service. It was too much of a risk. But Anna came to her that night, told her all about it. After the service, she returned to the door every night, usually in tears. It killed Elsa to hear her so heartbroken, but then she reminded herself that the heartbreak was all _her_ fault, and drew up strength enough to keep the door shut.

Some nights, Anna thought she heard movement from behind the door. Those were the nights that Elsa had to do something, _anything_, to tell Anna she was there, she was listening, and she cared. She couldn't speak. She couldn't open the door. So she made a bit of noise, just enough to tell her sister she was alive and listening.

Sometimes it backfired.

"Elsa… I know you're in there."

It was nearly three in the morning, Elsa figured, but that had never stopped Anna before. She stood, padding to the door, without a sound, and sat, her back against it. It could be three in the morning or three in the afternoon, and she would always go to listen at her door. If nothing else, she craved the younger girl's voice. It was all she had to go on. Once in a while, before the storm that killed her parents, she had seen her sister at special occasions, during which she only stayed long enough to seem proper and polite.

It always surprised her to see how her adopted sister had grown up. She was taller each year, until she finally stopped growing at fifteen. Or it looked that way – Elsa couldn't tell for sure. Her face narrowed out, her hair had gotten longer, and whenever she saw Anna, her hair had been in two braids. For one Christmas, she had stopped using the braids, and gone for an elegant bun. It was more sophisticated. Her chosen color was generally emerald green with gold accents; occasionally, a royal violet.

She still had the same innocence, though. But something was different… more desperate. Anna hadn't lost her childlike traits, but she was so desperate for someone, anyone, that she would babble incessantly to anyone who would listen. As cute as it was –Elsa always pushed _that_ thought away– it was far from sophisticated, and furthermore, a clear development of being locked away so long.

A sigh from the other side of the door snapped her out of her thoughts. "It's been twelve years," she murmured, and she didn't even sound sad or disappointed; she just sounded resigned, numb, indifferent, with a lilt of hope. "I know you won't come out. I know you won't say anything. Hell, you may not even be awake."

Elsa blinked in surprise. Anna rarely swore, and it concerned her.

"I just…" the voice on the other side stopped, and something thudded to the floor. A hand? Something else? "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. For… for whatever I did that made you shut me out. For whatever I said or did. I'm so sorry. I wish you'd give me the chance to say it to you, but… whatever I did… it must have been awful, so I don't blame you…"

Her hand was on the door knob before she could say a word, and in her haste, it jiggled a bit. She could hear the breathing on the other side of the door stop, and then the shifting of clothes as Anna stood. "… Elsa?"

Elsa swallowed hard, biting her lip and willing herself not to make a sound. Giving Anna false hope would only make it so much worse.

"Elsa…" This time it was quieter, nearly a whisper, followed by silence. "You're there. I can hear you breathing." Oh, was she really breathing that loudly? How stupid of her… "Please, Elsa. Just tell me you can hear me. That you know I'm sorry. I didn't mean to – that is, I wouldn't have – I just wanted to be with you all the time because you were so cool and I just…" She sighed again, stopping herself. "I'm so sorry I got so annoying. I must've been such a pest."

Elsa paused for one heart beat, then two. Nothing hurt her more than Anna hurting. She had to do something, _any_thing to consol her the slightest bit. For the first time in years, she spoke just a few words. "I can hear you." They were soft, tentative, unsure. She hadn't used her voice in a long time, and she wasn't sure exactly how it worked anymore. "It was never your fault, Anna. It was mine."

The sharp gasp she heard outside the door instantly told her it was a terrible idea to have said anything at all. "Elsa?" Her name came out on a breath of relief, terror, and hope, and Elsa stepped back from the door as if she had been struck. False hope. She had given Anna false hope.

"It was for your own good," she said quickly, sharply, maybe a bit too loudly. Then, softly, "… Good night, Anna."

"What?" Anna asked incredulously. "No! Don't you dare – you can't – _please_, Elsa! You can't just give me a cryptic answer like that and leave again! You just _can't_!"

_I can. I can and I must._

For over an hour, Anna stood outside her door, pleading and screaming and crying, trying everything she could with renewed vigor to hear that voice just one more time. Her heart broke all over again when the door stayed shut and no more words came, and she was sobbing with her forehead pressed against the door before she finally gave up and returned to her own room. A murmured, "Good night, Elsa," was all she said.

The visits stopped after that. No more knocks. No more talking. She had broken Anna one time too many, and now she was getting what she deserved. In a way, she was glad. At least this way, Anna might stay away. It was for her own good.

And Elsa would tell herself that until the day she died.


End file.
